


can't help myself

by park_jimin



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 03:17:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15720882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/park_jimin/pseuds/park_jimin
Summary: in which a tipsy justin can no longer control his feelings towards fan chengcheng (and vice versa).in short, just a fluffy college au one shot (both boys are legal xd).





	can't help myself

“Stupid,” Justin scowls into the lip of his bottle, fingers curled around a chilled Korean soju bottle (to his surprise, it actually wasn’t that bad). 

His mind wanders to earlier that day, where he managed to embarrass himself in front of his entire class during a presentation because he forgot that his roommate - a _dumbass_ named Ding Zeren - had pasted pictures of huba (a game character that looked suspiciously like his classmate Zhu Xingjie) in his slideshow as a _“harmless”_ prank. 

Grumbling, Justin takes a sip of the drink as if it were merely water- a choice he’s sure that he would regret in the morning. 

And yet, he feels oddly incensed tonight as he plants himself in front of the bar (with the intent to stay there for the rest of the entire night), quite content with ignoring the world behind him, which may or may not include the excited shrieks of a drunk Wang Linkai reaching his ears from somewhere across the club. 

A man leans on the bar a few feet away from Justin. He catches his eye, and sends him a slovenly wink. 

“Hey, darling,” he cooes as he slogs forwards, and Justin is hit with a wall of beer-scented breath. “Can I get you a glass of something?” 

“Get the fuck out,” Justin drones without missing a beat, spinning the neck of the bright green bottle in one hand absentmindedly. The man (who doesn’t look much older than twenty, really) scoffs and stalks away, returning his monotonous stare with a heated glower.

Justin starts to feel a substantial lack of alcohol burning the back of his throat (or at least, to little to deal with this kind of shit), and with that in mind he tosses back the rest of his drink, bottoms-up. 

“Hey,” Fan Chengcheng suddenly appears behind him without warning and Justin splutters on the remaining half-inch of his soju, most of it going up his nose in a fiery blaze of painful heat. “I saw you talking to that weird guy; are you okay?” 

Justin squints; sinuses burning. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? Sen’ the fucker away, too.” Chengcheng eyes the glass bottle in the other’s hand with a dubious stare. “How many drinks did you have?” 

“Enough to drown your sorry ass in.” 

“Yeah, you’re definitely not okay,” Chengcheng frowns. “Just how drunk are you?”

Justin glares at him. The purple and blue incandescence of the fluorescent light decorating the club highlights Chengcheng’s mouth and cheekbones in a way that’s highly distracting.

“Your face is distracting,” the younger mumbles without thinking, the burn in his nose making his eyes water. “And I don’t know; why does it fuckinn’ matter?” 

“Because you look like you’re about to cry, and swear, and do generically non-Justin things,” Chengcheng grimaces, giving him a bewildered once-over. “And you’re mumbling, so I can’t understand around 50% of what you’re saying.” 

Nonsense. Absolute nonsense. 

Justin looks at the other side of the bar, where the dance floor is, and immediately regrets it. Cai Xukun and Zhu Zhengting are dancing their hearts out to a song that’s blasting over the speakers (the only thing he can understand is _‘woo woo woo skrrt skrrt’_ , and that’s about it - thank god that they repeat it around 1000 times every few seconds), both of them so red that they would’ve failed the BAC test before even stepping into the police station. 

And somewhere behind them, Lin Yanjun is dancing with You Zhangjing in a corner (just why are they so damn _close_?), and even further behind are Wang Ziyi and Chen Linong, huddled up in one of the booths and engaged in what seems to be a serious discussion (only, Justin’s not blind enough to miss the empty bottles and glasses strayed all around them on the table - and logically concludes that the most serious thing they’re probably discussing is how horrid it would be to die by the hands of a b-boying gang with its mascot as a boogie monster). 

Chengcheng waves a hand in front of his face. 

“What?” Justin snaps, face creasing into a scowl again. 

“We’ve been here for over three hours already,” Chengcheng says, glancing at his watch. “I think some of us (his eyes eyes flicker pointedly to where Xukun and Zhengting are now sobbing along to something that sounds vaguely like ‘ _it’s oKKk, mE-i Shi jIa-Ng qUI Lan-G fEi_ ’) really need to cool down.” 

“No,” Justin spits. “Not moving.” 

“You’ve been glued to this bar every since we walked through that door. You haven’t moved for hours.” 

“It’s comfortable here,” Justin insists. “And why are you creeping up on me, _huh_?” 

“You’re drunk,” Chengcheng sighs. “I’ll get your coat. It’s starting to snow outside.” 

“Whah?” 

“Wait a little for me,” Chengcheng says, already disappearing into the writhing mob of dancers. “I’ll get your jacket, and tell Zeren what happened. Don’t move.” 

Justin feels dizzy. Maybe Chengcheng’s actually right, he _is_ drunk. But he still has more than enough room for one last shot of soju ( _he thinks_ ), so... 

After ordering said alcohol from the bartender, his ears immediately catch a sudden whoop of cheers from behind him. Upon turning, he realizes that Xukun has turned from singing (screaming) along to lyrics to downright rolling his hips on the dance floor, causing the crowd of dancers to ogle and Justin to choke. Zhengting probably would’ve cahooted, too, but he is nowhere to be found (and this fact alone is a little more than worrying). Not to mention that Yanjun and Zhangjing are too incensed in each other’s eyes to notice a single thing. 

Justin tries to blink it all away. 

“Your shot of soju.”

Justin starts to turn around. Someone bumps into him. 

“Watch it, arse,” he mutters before reaching for his glass blindly. His hands fumble until he feels the cool touch of glass beneath his fingertips, and finally turns back to the bar. The burn of liquor down his throat is enough to jar him to reality for a second or two- 

-but then, he starts feeling light. 

Very, very light. 

“Justin,” a voice calls from far away. It’s Chengcheng. “Hey, Justin?” 

He tries to turn around, but finds that his legs have turned into jelly. A drowsy haze is beginning to make him see double, and he blinks blearily. 

_What the fuck?_

And suddenly there’s an unfamiliar, heavy hand on his back of his neck, curling down his back, splaying across his throat, brushing uncomfortably across the side of his jaw. Justin stumbles; the unfamiliar hold is leading him away now (there’s another hand wrapped tight around his waist, and it’s much too rough and _suggestive_ to belong to anyone he knows, drunk or not - so who the fuck is this?), pushing him into the crowd. Justin tries to shove the hands off, but it’s futile: he’s too dizzy, too lopsided, and deeper into the crowd he goes until-

“Hey, _let go of him_ ,” a voice above him snaps, and the hands are wrenched away from his neck and back. Justin inhales a familiar mix of cologne and aftershave and something else that’s just as nice, something that differs drastically from the rancid smell of stale clothing and spilled beer from earlier. 

_Fan Chengcheng._

Suddenly the earth is pulled from his feet and he stumbles, and this is how Justin finds himself face-down on the floor, and suddenly it seems like an awfully good time to sleep. His arms and legs are turning to stone, and he finds that he can’t move anymore. 

_Oh well._

“Fuck, Justin” something mumbles. “Jus...tin. Get up.” 

A warbled combination of vowels and consonants is all he can manage as a reply before he feels hands pull him up to his feet by the arm, stars and flowers exploding across his vision. 

In the midst of dancing metallic blobs and neon swatches of light, Justin vaguely sees Chengcheng’s blurred-out face staring at him with an expression that either conveys worry or downright terror. The younger reels. 

“Justin.” Out of the corner of his eye, Justin sees Chengcheng’s lips move. “Justin fucking hell - _Huang Minghao_ , look at me- _look at me_ -” 

“Hnnghf.”

“Justin, can you hear me? Can you hear what I’m saying? Nod if yes- if you can-”

Justin lets his eyes flutter shut; his mouth is numb. The earth is spinning around him, and it’s beginning to get awfully hard to balance on his own feet again, even with Chengcheng’s support. What the hell is going on. He wants to sleep. He _really_ wants to sleep. And he is now collapsing- oops, there he goes- 

“Wow wow wow wow Justin please don’t do that- oh no-” there’s a bout of muffled humming and ringing in the distance. “Jus... tin... stay with me. Fuck, we need to get out of here, _now_ -”

“Wh... th... fu.. uh.. kk-k-k...?” he slurs against Chengcheng’s shirt. 

“Someone put something in your drink,” comes the frantic reply. 

“Wh... a.. a.. T?” 

“Your drink- Justin, _I think your drink got spiked_.” 

Justin shakes his head, the blurry and bleeding lights causing him to trip over his own feet and tip forwards. An arm catches him just before he can crash to the ground again, supporting him, holding him tight, practically carrying him through the wriggling mass that is the dance floor. He can’t understand a single thing- just what the fuck is happening to him? 

“The guy from earlier-” Chengcheng is talking again, but Justin can barely hear him over the constant ringing echoing in his ears. “...saw him dump something...pretty sure...was him... don’t worry... made sure... reported... gone now... left.” 

“I need to sleep,” Justin manages to choke out, watching Chengcheng’s face blur before his eyes. 

“No, not now, not before we get out of here-” 

From the corner of his eye, Justin sees a fluffy mop of blonde. It’s Xukun, sitting on the floor next to a pillar, sobbing into Zhengtin’s shoulder. 

“ _I just really really love NEX7_ ,” Xukun is wailing.

Justin blinks and the room swims again. 

“Oh no- for fuck’s sake, this is bad,” Justin hears Chengcheng’s whisper. “Alright, we really really need to get back to the dorms-” 

This time, Justin finds no heart left in him to disagree. No strength is left. 

Minutes after minutes tick by and Justin sees nothing but blurred lights and slushy blobs. There’s some mumbling that rustles over his head- Chengcheng is talking to someone. And then the next time he opens his eyes he’s outside, silence engulfing his ears like the loudest roar of water, a wall of ice and frigid winter drafts chilling him to the bone. Chengcheng’s arm is still supporting him as they stumble over to the curb- and without it, Justin is sure that he can’t even stand. 

“I’ll get a cab,” the boy beside him says. “It won’t take long.” 

Justin tries to nod, but his eyelids only fall and everything fades to black. 

 

\----------

 

“Justin,” he hears Chengcheng say, and gradually, he’s pulled out of the inky blackness. The voice is much clearer and gentler now, and there’s only calm silence between them. He hears a door being pushed open. “Justin, we’re back at the dorms. Do you want to sit down?”

“Hnnghmph...” 

“Can you... you know what, nevermind.” 

There’s a sudden shift in balance, tugging him forcefully towards the ground before he can stop it. There’s no fall like the other times, though: an arm is clutched firmly around his shoulders, and it’s only after his head lolls forwards comfortably that Justin realizes that he’s propped up on his and Zeren’s shared bunk. A few moments later, there’s the sound of soft footsteps and the door closing. 

Justin’s eyes crack open when warm palms are brushed against his ankles, pushing up the hem of his sweatpants. 

“I’m taking off your shoes, okay?” Chengcheng says. “Don’t panic.” 

“Why w’d I- why’d I panic...” 

“No reason,” Chengcheng says, and Justin hears something that sounds like a laugh puff through the other’s lips. When both of his shoes are tugged off, a giant duvet is suddenly pushed up against him, warm and soft. 

Oh thank the heavens. 

“I’ll get you a pillow,” Chengcheng murmurs. 

“No.” 

Justin reaches out, and to his surprise, manages to actually grab the other’s wrist and yank him down towards him. Chengcheng stares at him, and for the first time that evening, Justin sees his face with a semblance of clarity. They were still blurry, yes, but at least he only has two eyes and one mouth now- thank god. 

“You don’t want a pillow?” came the soft inquiry. 

“No,” Justin mutters as he shakes his head, face half-buried in the sheets. 

“Then- is it okay if I leave you alone now?” 

After a small moment of silence, a grumbled “no” is heard again. 

Chengcheng sighs a little hopelessly, and fumbles around until he’s kicked off his own shoes and shifts until he’s sitting up on the mattress. Justin’s mattress. Their mattress. Whatever. 

From beneath heavy eyelids, Justin sees Chengcheng stifle a yawn. He pushes himself up slightly until he’s balancing on one elbow, and leans forwards until his hand is hooked around the back of Chengcheng’s neck. 

“Hmm?” Chengcheng asks, blinking. 

And before the other could say anything else, Justin closes the distance, taking Chengcheng’s bottom lip into his own. Chengcheng’s mouth opens with shock, but he doesn’t pull away, and only shifts so that one arm is around Justin’s back, holding him in place. The other hand drifts up to trace Justin’s jaw, and then it’s Justin’s turn to suck in a breath of surprise. 

Neither of them really knows if they’re kissing or if they’re just sort of hanging onto each other with their lips touching, but either way, despite the scent of soju and beer and general alcohol-

- _it’s nice_.

“G’night,” Justin mutters inarticulately into Chengcheng’s mouth, and Chengcheng breaks the kiss to slip behind Justin on the bunk, curving a bit to fit themselves together. 

“Goodnight,” Chengcheng replies, pressing a chaste kiss to Justin’s throat before they both pass out, drunk on alcohol and nerves. 

They might not remember this tomorrow- or at least, Justin probably won’t-

-but that’s alright.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for making it to the end! this happened at 2am instead of homework, so i guess y'all could say i've got my priorities pretty straight. stan nine percent and all the boys from idol producer! luv y'all <3


End file.
